shadows of little delight

itchy fingers
not from wanting to steal
itch fingers
from burning to write

with a mind so full of thought you would think I have endless of things to say
well in truth I do
but the influx of information coursing through my veins I cant share
hide the truth in plain sight
keep it from all including myself

the cost is greater than the profit and all my mind can think of is
does it ever stop?


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